


The Cup and Chaucer: Seasonal Menu

by Realityhelix



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Unspecified Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27019855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Realityhelix/pseuds/Realityhelix
Summary: You run a tiny coffee shop in a forgotten corner of the city. One day, a new customer walks through the door.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 91
Collections: Awesome Autumn with Loki





	The Cup and Chaucer: Seasonal Menu

The first time he walked into your shop, you didn't recognize him. He was just another man in a suit, albeit far more fashionable than your usual customers. You got both of New York's finest in here; stroppy businessmen who didn't want to wait in a Starbucks line, and ultra-ironic hipsters that grumbled about the businessmen. This man appeared to be a bit in-between, with his immaculate suit contrasting his messy man-bun, and his skin so pale that you weren't sure he wasn't wearing makeup.

He looked remarkably unfriendly, and not just in the way of a grumpy customer. His stare was very sharp, and he cast his gaze about as if suspicious of everyone and everything.

“Welcome to the Cup and Chaucer!” You greeted. “Take your time. Everything's fresh, and we're starting our Autumn seasonal menu today. Feel free to read any book on the shelf, just put it back in place when you're done.”

This little place was your pride and joy. You had worked damn hard, and also fallen into quite a bit of luck to get your hands on it. A reading cafe and coffee shop, stocked with classic literature and trendy flavors. Your perfect little kingdom.

The man hesitated, though he made it look like he was merely deliberating. When he approached the counter, it was with a haughty confidence that you thought might be hiding something else.

“Your most potent drink.” He said, voice low. The hipsters were whispering. You couldn't quite place the accent, maybe he was fresh off the boat, maybe not. He glanced at the food display. “And an apple, gouda, and bacon egg tart?”

“Good choice. Okay, one Turkish coffee, and one AGB tart.” You rang up his total, and he presented you with a sleek, black card. “Uh, you just use the chip reader there.”

You pointed to the little device, which he looked at as if he'd never seen one before. It was like walking a senior citizen through the process, but he finally got the gist of what he was supposed to do. The hipsters were whispering even more, and he clearly noticed, glaring and sneering in their direction.

He looked affronted when you presented him with the tiny cup of hell brew, as if wondering if it was a joke.

“Just trust me.” You said. He took the drink and tart, grabbed a book off the nearest shelf, and did his best to hog an entire couch for the next forty-five minutes. His phone buzzed intermittently the entire time, until it became a constant vibration audible from his pocket. He finally looked at the thing, sighed like he was the most put-upon individual in the entire world, and left. At least he seemed to have enjoyed the coffee.

He returned two days later, during a busier hour. He was still impeccably dressed, though this time his hair was in a thick braid down his back, giving you a better idea of its true length.

“Your largest cold drink, in a seasonal flavor.”

“Which one?”

“That one.” He pointed to the big, orange 'Pumpkin Spice' you had scrawled onto the blackboard. “And a matching muffin.”

“Can do. What name you want this under?”

He looked taken aback, then suspicious all over again, eyes flicking this way and that, at the hipsters, at the grumbling businessmen, perturbed by his holding up the line.

“Thokk.” He said.

“You sure?” He glared down his nose, obviously displeased by all the questioning he was receiving today. Just who was this guy? “All right, all right. That one 'K' or two?”

He stayed longer this time, until a lull in the customers. Then he approached the counter again.

“Need anything else?”

“No. Just...these things were good. I wish to know what a pumpkin is.”

You stared. Who was this guy!?!

“You will tell me.” He demanded.

“Yeah, just...Okay. A pumpkin is a kind of squash. Big, round, orange thing. They only finish growing around now, so this is when you see pumpkin everything popping up. You've really never seen a pumpkin?”

“Perhaps.” He said haughtily.

He started showing up regularly, giving a different, and ridiculous name each time. Aethelred the Unready. Iago. Lodur. Once, he even used Thor, much to the disappointment of your other clientele, whom he mocked for getting excited, until you told him to cut it out. He obeyed, but in the way of a cat, pretending it had been his idea all along.

It was kind of entertaining, actually. Whoever this man was, he shook up the place. The high and mighty attitude wasn't so bad. He at least respected you as the shop's owner, and his weird bouts of curiosity kept you on your toes.

He was kinda hot too. A bit pale and frowny, but he had excellent features. You started looking forward to his visits.

Right up until one of your customers slipped you a note.

_That man is Loki, in case you didn't know. I don't know why he's here, but you'd better be careful._

Loki. The same Loki that attacked the city a few years before? That Loki? Hopefully not.

You'd been away at culinary school at the time, and damn lucky too. The building you'd used to live in had been almost completely destroyed by some kind of metal space dragon, but you hadn't been inside.

In fact, all the destruction had depreciated the property value of the surrounding area so much, you'd been able to get your hands on this shop, and the modest apartment above it, for a song.

You weren't going to thank him for that though.

Cops started showing up, asking questions. You weren't a fan of that. They made your customers uncomfortable, stifled business, and didn't even buy anything. Loki, if he was Loki, never visited while they were there. It was as if he knew.

Business slowed. The businessmen still came, but the hipsters-your loyal and most dedicated customers, the source of most of your income-started thinning out. Things started looking not so good.

Damned if you were going to get this place because of him, and then lose it because of him too! You lived here!

You were just about to storm out the door and tell the cops to shove off; you'd call them if he showed up again, but stopped at the door. The cops were getting in their car, and leaving. There was a knot of people on the sidewalk, mostly men in various stages of hugeness, and also one of the sexiest women you'd ever seen in your life, just kind of standing there, waving the cops goodbye.

Loki was there, in the middle of them, like the nut inside its protective shell.

All seven of them entered your shop, still keeping him at their center.

“Uh, hi.” You said. “Welcome to the, um, the Cup and...”

You recognized every one of these faces. They'd saved the world a few years back, and gotten into a lot of news cycles since then, for good and bad reasons. You hurried back to the counter.

“Ahem. Welcome to the Cup and Chaucer. Would you like to order anything? I already know yours.” You said, gesturing at Loki.

He got elbowed lightly in the ribs from three different angles, and bristled like a cat.

“You don't know anything for certain.” He grumbled.

“Oh I don't?” You straightened up as tall as you could and gave your best Loki impression. “Fetch me your largest pumpkin spice cold drink, and your freshest matching muffin! What do you mean basic? It is a clearly complex concoction! Silence, peasants!”

The ribbing had turned into downright laughter, and Loki's pale face had sparked bright red.

“I never called them peasants!” He protested. “I believe the word I used was 'plebeian'.”

“Yeah, well, just don't go running off my customers. I've had a bad few weeks, you know.”

The laughter subsided. “Yeah, that's kinda why we're here.” One of the men-no, that was Tony Stark-spoke up. “He feels bad about what happened-”

“I can say it myself!” Loki snapped. He broke free of his shell of heroes to approach the counter. “I was encouraged to lean more about this land, and its people. They're calling it 'sensitivity training'.”

You snorted.

“Yes, well. I should have realized that my presence here might cause you problems. That was never my intention. I enjoy this place. I will be staying in this city for some time. Under supervision.” He grumbled. “But I would like to come back here, if I may?”

“Hey, as long as the cops aren't hanging around, scaring off my business, then I don't care who comes in here.”

It didn't seem to be the answer he was looking for, but he silently accepted. The hugest one-that must be Thor-nudged him.

“Go on. Do it.”

Loki cleared his throat.

“Would you...I mean, if you would like...Here!” He slapped something down on the counter and stalked out of the shop, several of the men following after him.

“Norns, he is bad at this.” Thor groaned. You picked up the slip of paper Loki had left. It was a ticket to visit a pumpkin farm upstate.

“Is this...?”

“Yes. He will not stop talking about pumpkins. Or your muffins. Or how nice this place smells. I knew he would like coffee though, it is one of your species' great accomplishments.”

“Hey wait.” You hastily threw a muffin in a paper bag, and whipped up an iced pumpkin spice latte. “Here. Take these to him will you? And tell him...”

You waved the ticket in the air.

“Tell him I'll meet him there.”


End file.
